


The Model

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Filk, Gen, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-07
Updated: 2000-02-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A character analysis, Chaucer-style.  The Model = Fraser





	The Model

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    The Model
    
    The Model walks in beauty and in grace -
    There is no line or mark upon his face.
    His strength lies in more than his power to enchant,
    Though his countenance is fit to grace Rembrandt.
    His locks of brown and proper form
    Are now the rage, yet ne'er will be the norm;
    He has bright eyes both gray and blue,
    Mirrors to a soul both sweet and true.
    His clothing is as red as a bleeding heart - 
    A reflection as well as makeup for the part.
    He is much greener than he first appears,
    For people see right past his youthful fears.
    This man yet a child is lost today -
    He leads the world but does not know the way.
    All follow him like sheep within a flock,
    And he can never hide beneath a rock;
    His life is like a show for everyone,
    And secrets glow before the day is done.
    If he begins to cry, we cannot see,
    Because he's just a doll to you and me,
    And dolls are always perfect for our eyes,
    No matter if their worlds have stormy skies.
    A doll is often forced to be polite -
    As must this man, on every day and night.
    His character, to some, is of such consequence;
    People dwell on all of the incidents
    That would but serve to build his image up
    And make our views of him e'er more corrupt.
    All who see feel some emotion for him,
    Of love or hate that changes on a whim.
    A man may be jealous of his looks
    Or follow every move straight by the books;
    but women adore and fawn as he walks by,
    and he ignores with blankness in his eyes.
    He's learned to keep his heart within himself,
    Learned to stand tall on his tiny shelf.
    One day he may stand up to one and all . . . 
    but till that day, he will remain their doll.
    
     - end - 


End file.
